


Ainley of Shalott

by ForAllLove



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Also harder than it seems, M/M, More Serious Than It Sounds, Poetry, Romance, The Lady of Shalott, Time Lords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForAllLove/pseuds/ForAllLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tennyson is ripped off, and contains rather more aliens than before.</p><p>Written for the historical challenge at <a href="http://best-enemies.livejournal.com">Best Enemies</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ainley of Shalott

**Author's Note:**

> [“The Lady of Shalott,” by Alfred Lord Tennyson](http://charon.sfsu.edu/tennyson/tennlady.html), spawned this monstrosity. Please read the original; the poetry is beyond beautiful. Once you’ve attempted something similar, you’ll understand how much skill and thought goes into rhyming with such flawlessness as Tennyson did. While my poem is nowhere near as perfect, I am not Tennyson, so I’ll be proud of myself anyway. For the record, “The Lady of Shalott” is one of my favourite poems of many favourites. That is no excuse for what I did to it, though!

“Ainley of Shalott”  
   
In Earth’s great age of Camelot,  
Of Arthur and Sir Lancelot ―  
In this era the Master sought  
To undertake his latest plot  
           To rule over Sol 3.  
He settled on a river eyot,  
A likely market-town in sight.  
With little aid, he could forthright  
            Beguile ye olde peasantry.  
   
He allied with the demon Heen,  
Who walk among the woods unseen  
And weave humanity’s dark dreams.  
Upon the isle amid the stream  
           They linked their hands and danced ―  
Perhaps disguised as hooded druids,  
As nimble harts with leapings fluid,  
Or mighty oaks with branches dewed ―  
           Murmuring their chants.  
   
Through their unholy sorcery,  
The Master gathered energy  
To enhance his telepathy.  
This world would soon hypnotically  
            Be under his control.  
When to dominion he ascended,  
And need for the Heen had ended,  
They’d be disposed of, as intended.  
            Earth was his alone.  
   
With glee rather than circumspection,  
The Master forgot their connection,  
Left his thoughts open to detection.  
The Heen, in their disaffection,  
            Turned in their own betrayal.  
They decreed, for this delict,  
That he should be named maledict.  
Their black magic worked to astrict  
            The Master in its spell.  
   
Thus, where the river split in two,  
Where daffodils and willows grew,  
Though they had danced half the night through,  
In rings and rows they wove anew  
            To build a magic tower.  
Carved by the blackness of their hearts,  
Its form sustained by arcane arts,  
A stone spire rose with stone ramparts  
            All hidden by their power.  
   
They vanished at the break of day.  
Among the trees their shadows played  
As they sought someone who would pay  
For the prisoner who remained,  
            Waiting for his rescuer:  
A knight from tales the peasants tell,  
A vegetable on his lapel.  
The Master’s faith could not be quelled ―  
            He waited for the Doctor.  
   
The Master vowed he would abide  
Within the casement, day and night.  
Faithful in this, always denied,  
Sometimes he screamed, and sometimes cried,  
            But could not keep from hoping.  
A fortnight passed him by before  
That box of blue, on the far shore,  
Materialised with a roar.  
            Both of the doors swung open.  
   
Fair of form and fair of face,  
Possessed of other-worldly grace,  
Lord o’er all of time and space ―  
O! Him to twine in love’s embrace!  
            Out stepped his own dear Doctor,  
His features, chosen on a whim,  
By the setting sun so limned...  
The Master ached to go to him.  
            He could not leave the tower.  
   
In vain the Master shouted down.  
The Doctor did not turn around  
But wandered instead into town.  
Soon the darkness settled ‘round  
            The forlorn, forgotten Master.  
He lit his candles with a sigh ―  
 _Of course_ the Doctor passed him by.  
He was concealed from ev’ry eye  
            By a perception filter.  
   
A touch upon his velvet sleeve ―  
He feared it was another dream,  
But as their fingers interleaved  
It was too real to disbelieve.  
            His Doctor had found him.  
His clothes were dripping on the floor.  
“I swam across the stream before  
I sonicked through the cellar door―”  
            He threw his arms around him.  
   
As the Doctor held him tight,  
The Master yearned to reunite  
With his beloved one tonight.  
Escape could wait ‘til morning’s light ―  
            How deeply he had missed him!  
Cradled by his golden flower  
Here in this enchanted bower,  
He must succumb to true love’s power,  
            Near-swooning as he kissed him.  
   
Hurriedly, they both undress’d  
At the Master’s hushed behest.  
He clasped his Doctor to his breast  
Within his bed, where they caressed,  
            Learning to love anew.  
Long they cherished one another.  
Heart and hearts, they beat together.  
Lover and beloved, forever  
            One, though they were two.  
   
When at last the dawning came,  
Contentment grew, and passion waned.  
The Doctor drew the counterpane  
Over the Master, slumber-claimed  
            Beside him in the bed.  
When next the Master ope’d his eyes,  
Gone were his lover and the signs  
Of all they shared throughout the night.  
            His golden knight had fled.  
   
He’d thought to give, instead of take,  
Endeared for his devotion’s sake.  
Instead, abandoned to his fate,  
He realised his grave mistake:  
            He should have _made_ him stay!  
He cursed himself for having slept.  
Upon the window-sill, he wept  
For all of which he was bereft.  
            Again he was betrayed.  
   
In love-addled naiveté,  
He’d been deceived entirely.  
His knight was without chivalry ―  
All he’d left was his celery,  
            A token for his conquered.  
Yet, though he had been used most ill,  
The Master stayed upon the sill.  
His single heart was longing still,  
            Pining for his Doctor.  
   
The TARDIS was nowhere in sight,  
But though he tried with all his might,  
The Master could not curse the light  
That brightened his imprisoned night  
            And made this life worth living.  
The celery rested in his palm.  
His memories would be the balm  
That soothed his spirit into calm.  
            He would always forgive him.  
   
The sunlight through his window shone.  
Time and the river flowed along.  
Townspeople passed by and were gone.  
The peculiar sound of brakes left on―  
            The Doctor had returned.  
Cunning were the demon Heen,  
Yet all their arts had not foreseen:  
A Time Lord and his time machine  
            Left all their magic spurned.  
   
The police box materialised.  
The two blue doors were opened wide.  
The Doctor beckoned him inside;  
The Master was, in three quick strides,  
            In the arms of his knight.  
“This tower is drenched in energy.  
My TARDIS had difficulty―  
Oh! So you found my celery―”  
            He kissed him in delight.  
   
They clung together, shared their laughter,  
Linked their minds when voices faltered.  
When their relieved embrace grew softer,  
Into the TARDIS they both entered  
            And closed the doors behind them.  
The Heen had made their bargain well:  
The Master for Earth’s freedom-knell.  
They moved to fetch him from their spell,  
            But they could not find him.  
   
There was no prisoner to be seen.  
Their allies presumed treachery,  
Turned in their gleaming livery.  
“Exterminate!” they cried; the Heen  
            Vanished into the night.  
So too disappeared the tower,  
No longer preserved by their power.  
There lay the isle, and there the flowers,  
            Untouched in the moonlight.  
   
Beyond the stars the TARDIS spun.  
The two Time Lords cradled within  
Pledged anew they would remain,  
Though anywhere and anywhen,  
            Inseparable hereafter.  
In future and in history,  
All time in this reality  
Is assured of this constancy:  
            The Doctor and the Master.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone’s interested, there’s podfic [here](http://dl.dropbox.com/u/58998850/Ainley%20of%20Shalott%20by%20ForAllLove.mp3). 8:36 long, BEWARE OF DALEK, this is a serious warning (era-appropriate Dalek, might I add). Left-click to play in your browser, or right-click to save!


End file.
